


Poetically Justified Injustice

by AllDressedUpAndNaked



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: BillDip but not really, Death is only the beginning..., Human Bill Cipher, I'm adding to this soon...so stay tuned!, If I add more then rating will most likely change, Just a oneshot for now, M/M, Mention of Grunkle Stan and Mabel Pines, Triangle Bill Cipher, may add more later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 19:39:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14504094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllDressedUpAndNaked/pseuds/AllDressedUpAndNaked
Summary: There is a plant that grows deep in the forest of Gravity Falls. Fabales Cipherae. It is a little bit like Bill Cipher's own personal spider web and he feeds off of the life forces it catches, mostly random forest animals, rarely the occasional supernatural creature (which provides more energy than the average animal, but they are smarter and harder to lure in), and even rarer still, because Dipper is the first, the hapless human. Slowly, the blood of its victims has given Bill enough power that he can shape shift into anything he desires. But he is not yet powerful enough to keep a physical form for long. Perhaps he'll get all the energy he needs from a certain over-zealous boy who has fallen as the latest victim.





	Poetically Justified Injustice

The young explorer comes across an alien flora deep in unknown territory of the forest. He has finally come to the source of the heady, beckoning fragrance only a few hours old to his senses; the smell fervent as the rose, saccharine as jasmine, and tangy as wisteria. It was as if the scent, itself, was an extension of the life force of the plant. The toxic aroma had filled Dipper’s lungs, osmosed into his blood, fed into every cell of his being. 

An ingenious sentience unlike any other vegetation, but then again, it was devised and created by Bill Cipher. The dream demon’s own power pulses within its very core; the quintessence of his own nature- intelligent, enticing, provocative...and deadly. But the foolish human doesn’t know this; judgment clouded in all senses of the word.

Farther into the clearing he is drawn, closer to the alluring softness of petal clusters ablaze in hues of red, orange, and yellow. Delicate fern-like leafage as dark as night, but still green, give a haunting backdrop to further promote the colors’ intensities.

Usually when one plays with fire, one ultimately gets burned. Dipper knew this lesson all too well, yet he goes in anyway. An eager hand reaches out to touch the cascading flames, unaware of the dangers of doing so. He has momentarily forgotten the journals of his great uncle; a crucial wisdom vital for keeping one alive in these woods. But for some reason, he has lost sense of reason now, negligently leaping into the unknown with no fear of consequence. 

Upon contact, skin is met with a softness unlike anything he’s felt before. Confidently, his hands wander over one cluster, then another, until he is lulled into false belief that there is nothing dangerous about the plant at all. He wants to bask in all its glorious sensations; be all encompassed by the pleasureful sight, smell, and feel. The plant is happy to oblige.

Like wisteria, vines begin to wrap around arms and legs, torso and neck. But it is gentle, snaking up his body slowly, sensually. The embrace is warm, inviting, and it compels him to lie down, to which he does not object. Like jasmine, the smell has drugged his mind. He is addicted and wants more; needs a stronger and stronger hit to get a more fulfilling high. And finally, like the rose, the beauty of it all conceals that which is deadly in plain site. There are thorns, black and hiding among the foliage, long and scalpel sharp; scarcely populated, but only one is needed to draw blood.

As lacey leaves brush up against pale skin, a singular thorn penetrates a lower leg. He sucks in a breath through gritted teeth, mocha orbs gleaning with momentary fear. But like a syringe, the pain is fleeting, though it remains buried within the flesh. The wild flora will consume its share of the boy’s life blood before the demon arrives. And that won’t be long now, as Bill’s eyes long ago spotted the boy’s presence in the forest. But he is in no hurry, twirling his cane around one tiny black finger, floating along the wooded paths lined with pine needles and other various decaying organic material.

The plant senses the impending arrival of the geometric demon, and readies its bounty for him. Thorn removed, it uses another, closer to the boy’s upper arm. His head is forced to one side, but he is too enraptured in sensation to care. Then, a sensitive spot along the human’s neck in line with the shoulder is severed in a small vertical line. This time, the boy cries out from the painfully deep incision, and even struggles a little against the vines holding him down. But it is over as quickly as it starts. He relaxes again; into the smell, the massaging vines wrapped around him, he slips back into his pleasant coma. He pays no mind to the feeling of warmth flowing out of him, dripping down his skin.

Ah, but to see the crimson sap of a Pine Tree flow. ‘Tis a beauty unparalleled, a sensation to behold. 

~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~

But as poetic as the aforementioned scene before him is, the unfortunate voice of the dapper yellow triangle just doesn’t seem quite so fitting.

“WELL WELL WELL WELL WELL!!” the piercingly high and echoing voice rings out, instantly breaking the boy’s euphoric high to come crashing down like raining shards of glass. It may have been the only voice on earth that could have broken him away. It certainly was the last voice he ever wanted to hear again. “What has Pine Tree gotten himself into today?!” His single eye squints and he scratches near his top angle in mock contemplation. “OR!...Maybe the  _ better _ question is- What has gotten into Pine Tree?! Haha!! Looks like you’ve found yourself tangled up with the wrong species, kid!  _ Fabales Cipherae,  _ to be precise, and we both know how I  _ LOVE _ precision!” 

Dipper tries to ignore the snarky demon now standing on the ground a couple feet away, tries to think about how he’s getting out of this unfortunate scenario, but ignoring the very being who haunts your nightmares, and sources 99% of your mental problems overall, is a very difficult task. The sentient plant life holding him down and forcing him to look in Bill’s direction wasn’t helping, either.

“You gonna talk, kid? Or are you too high on love with your new friend here? I mean, I’ve heard of cross-species relationships, but this is pushing it a bit far, don’tcha think?!” 

Bill’s humor was not amusing to the teen one bit. He did seem to be amusing himself, however, and laughed at his own words continually. But, as much as he loved hearing himself talk, the boy’s silence was starting to grate at him. 

“Rude, Pine Tree. You really should acknowledge when someone is speaking to you. Especially when that someone is ME!” 

With a quick snap of the demon’s fingers, the plant moves Dipper to sit upright on the ground, and none too gently, mind you. The teen grunts, but otherwise does not make a sound. He doesn’t want to give the yellow headache the satisfaction. The Pines boy is a stubborn one, but then again, this pinecone didn’t fall far from the conifer. He comes from a very long lineage of stubborn Pines, the wills of whom do not easily bend.

He briefly feels lightheaded, and also feels the tickle of thick, warm fluid begin to trail down his back and chest as his open wound continues to bleed. The thought that it should start to clot over soon keeps him from dwelling on it too much.

“Hmmm..” The demon contemplates before a cute little idea comes to mind. “Well, I guess I can see why you wouldn’t want to speak to me, given our history and all,” he swirls a hand to his side in exaggeration, “BUT!” the sudden volume level startles Dipper, “may-be… you’d rather talk to... this!” The golden triangle suddenly shifts form. He now appears to be a rather curvy, wearing a revealing yellow brick-patterned dress,... _ woman?! _

Bill almost had him...almost got the teen to say something. The look on Dipper’s face is strained, like he wants to burst out laughing, but the stubborn boy quickly turns his head as far as the constricting plant will allow and squeezes his eyes shut. “Wow, Pine Tree,” he (she?) begins in overly dramatic contemplation; a very breathy, feminine voice accompanying the human form, “most boys your age would  _ never _ turn away from the sight of such feminine mystique.” 

He senses that Bill has gotten closer to him, probably standing right in front of him, but he is not going to let this stupid demon manipulate him. “Don’t like what you saw?” he/she pouts as delicate fingers trace parallel to the vines on his bare arm. The skin reacts involuntarily, breaking out in goosebumps, but the stubborn teen still says nothing, and does not open his eyes.

“Well, if you don’t find  _ this _ form pleasing, then perhaps…” the lovely voice trails off and he (she?!) shifts again, this time into a man. 

Another loud snap of fingers, and the vines wrapped around legs and feet temporarily loosen; the plant raises him to standing position. Warm breath can be felt against his neck, ghosting over his ear, and Dipper knows Bill is now dangerously close. But he doesn’t look; the teen holds fast, does not give in. 

The now very human looking dream demon, dressed to the nines in black and yellow tuxedo, complete with all the formal accoutrements, is practically on top of him. Now, more masculine fingers dance across his skin. The vines, as if in fear, retreat away from the demon’s hands as they draw near, slowly unwinding their grip on the teen’s body. First from arms, then, as the hands make their way up, they release his shoulders, neck, and head. The feeling of hands in his hair, even knowing to whom they belong, is hard to resist relaxing into. 

“... _ this _ is what you are more into,” he finishes his statement from before, but now with a silky smooth and deep voice. Dipper struggles to resist a defensive response to the not-so-cryptically implied statement involving sexual preferences, even though he knows it to be typical of the devious stratagems used by his most hated enemy to get under people’s skin. Ultimately, he fails.

One eye slowly creeps open, followed soon after by the other, as the teen has a hard time focusing on something so close to him. The man standing before him, face only a hair’s width from his own, is oh-so-obviously Bill’s. Even with only one eye and no other facial features before, smugness was always his most dominant look. With human features, it practically oozed from him. 

But there was something else...something Dipper did not want to admit to, and certainly wouldn’t openly vocalize to the contemptible demon, himself. His face, even with all that snark and self-importance, was immeasurably more attractive in the male form. Sure, the visual of the female was fleeting, as he had looked away rather quickly, but he could remember it very clearly. Yep, this one was definitely better.

He couldn’t believe he was even thinking about this right now. He wanted to scream, run away, spit in the stupid demon’s beautiful face... _ anything _ but what he was currently doing, which was staring hard at the handsome being he loathed so much. A rosy warmth could be felt creeping into his cheeks.  _ Fuck… _

Bill backed up a few inches to get a better view of the now flushed teen, a huge shit-eating grin plastered across his face. “Oh-ho! So it’s  _ true _ !” The voice is still silky smooth and criminally sensual, but Dipper cannot ignore it any longer, no matter how much he tells himself that it’s still Bill Cipher, and that speaking with him will only make his situation worse. As if it could get any worse.

“Shut up, Bill.” The words are spat in disdain.

“Aha! And he finally speaks! A tad disrespectfully, but still words, nonetheless!”

“Shut  _ up _ , Bill,” he repeats, a bit more venomous this time.

Bill brings a slender, yet powerful looking, hand up to his own cheek, tapping the fingers thoughtfully against his face as he slowly shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a disapproving fashion. He briefly glances to the coagulating puddle staining the forest floor, then to the vines still gripping the teen’s legs, before stopping at the trails of red blood still steadily oozing from Dipper’s neck. 

He hums thoughtfully and then, ignoring the teen’s wishes, speaks again, “One…” his head tilts observationally to the side, “maybe two. Yeah, you have only about two minutes before you pass out from the blood loss. Then another five or so, if you’re lucky, before your body goes into full-on shut down!” Bill can see that ‘not buying it’ look in Dipper’s face. “Anticoagulant in the plant’s venom,” he deadpans. Skepticism slowly turns to worry; brown eyes grow wider.

So!” Bill claps his hands together sharply, again startling the brunet. “I see only two possible outcomes here...One- you die! Or two- We make a deal in which I keep your pathetic existence from ending, return your fleshbag to perfect working order, and you then pull me into full physical existence and belong to me forever. Of course... I spare your loved ones, yada yada…you know, the typical stuff. Either way works for me!”

Dipper, still standing with vines entwined around his legs, pales even more than the blood loss has already caused. He already knows what making a deal with Cipher means. He knows he doesn’t want either scenario, but there is one that he absolutely cannot live with. Because along with that one, there is the certainty of harm befalling others. Family. Friends. All of humanity. Because no matter how it is worded, how much he thinks he has covered every loophole, the demon will find a way around it. And he will be responsible for it all. At least with the other outcome, he is sure to not get anyone else involved.

He knows what he has to do.

“Tick-tock, kid...What’s it gonna be?”

He’s confident Bill is going to try and change his mind.

Clearly, and without hesitance, Dipper responds. “Death.” Bill leans close again, Cheshire Cat grin never diminishing.  _ That’s not good, _ he thinks as the demon gets too far into his personal space again.

“Have it your way, kid!” Bill laughs as the vines encroach once again over all of the teen. “But let’s make this quick, shall we?”  The brunet suddenly finds his world upside-down, literally, as the plant lifts his feet high into the air. Blood flows steadily. He barely has time to question his choice before everything fades to black.

* * *

 

A small, soft blue light comes into view. He is no longer upside-down, or restrained, yet feels weightless and disoriented. The light is distant, so he decides to try and get closer, as there is nothing else around him save the inky blackness. Before he can put one foot in front of the other, the light comes at him with blinding speed; an arm instinctively raising to shield his face. It envelops him, increasing in intensity every second until he can no longer keep his eyes open. And suddenly, he can sense that it’s gone.

He finds himself back in the forest, the strange plant, now withered and dead, only a few yards away. But everything looks a little dead. Everything is now painted in muted grey-scale. Several yards further, someone is lying on the ground. A crumpled heap. Like a mouse dropped unceremoniously on the welcome mat of the master’s door. He doesn’t have to stare for long to realize it’s  _ him _ .  _ He _ is lying on the ground.  _ He _ must be dead. But  _ why _ is he here? And  _ what _ has he become?

He steps forward, only to freeze where he’s at. There is someone else. Tall. Blonde. Overdressed for the forest.  _ Bill. _ The demon looks more real now...even in the grey, he has a more dominating presence in this reality. Less like a shape-shifter. More like…  _ the real thing. _

It was at this moment, Dipper knew he’d fucked up. Oh, he’d more than fucked up. Fucked up was not studying enough for finals and getting an A- on a test. Fucked up was forgetting to restock Grunkle Stan’s fridge with more Pitt Cola™ after taking the last can. Fucked up was deciding to stay home when Mabel had a slumber party. 

With the human’s blood, Cipher gained all the power he needed to become a permanent entity in the physical world. Deal or no, he would have had it anyway. He was willing to give the boy even the smallest of chances to keep his family and loved ones safe; to make some kind of guidelines for his own soul. But there would be no such deal now. The demon had free reign. 

This...this was beyond just fucking up. He now wishes he could die again. Or cease to exist. Whatever would take him out permanently. But Dipper was still unsure about that. If he was supposed to be dead, what, exactly, was he now, and why was he still here, so close to his body? Not sure he wanted those answers, he turns to leave. On the second step (he still wasn’t sure how he was moving, or why he even needed to walk), something holds his left foot back.

A shackle. A cold, blue glowing shackle restrains his ankle.  _ That wasn’t there before… _

Fear-filled eyes follow the attached chain to its source. Bill’s left hand.  _ Shit! No, no… nonono...this can’t be happening! _

The demon gives the chain a sharp yank, causing the boy to fall. “Yes, it can!” Bill laughs with such evil intensity that even the trees shudder. “And don’t worry, I plan on showing you just how thankful I am to you...  _ every _ minute of  _ every _ hour of  _ every _ ...  _ Single _ .  _ Passing _ . Day!” The chain is pulled closer with each sickeningly cheerful, over- stressed word, until Dipper is within inches of the demon and,  _ Ew _ , his own corpse.

“Wha _ - _ ” the boy starts, but is immediately scolded into silence.  _ Sonuva- _ but his thoughts are also silenced.

“Ah-ah, you will not speak unless I allow it,” the blonde gently admonishes. Gentle is not his forte, however, and it quickly changes into more castigating words. “You will not _speak_ , you will not _feel_ , you will not _see_ , you will not _hear_ , you won’t even _taste.._. In fact, you _WILL NOT DO_ _ANYTHING_ unless _I ALLOW IT!!”_

A warm smile suddenly grows across the demon’s face, and voice, once again, becomes soft and low and...sensual, like earlier. “But, in your current state, I suppose you wouldn’t really want most of those senses, anyways. How about we change that, yes?” Not waiting for an answer, though Dipper is pretty sure he wouldn’t be allowed to give one even if he wanted to, Bill slowly raises his right hand as if lifting the air itself.

He senses the presence behind him, hoping he is not forced to turn and look at it; forced to look upon his own reanimated corpse. Because he knows that’s what it is. But before he can think anymore about it, he is being shoved backwards. A sensation of being sucked into a void overcomes him, and there is darkness, once again. He doesn’t want to see anything, though, and wishes to remain in the darkness. 

But then he hears a voice.  _ His _ voice. A voice he cannot ignore. The voice that now owns him. It tells him to open his eyes and look upon his new world. He has to obey. He has no choice. He no longer has any choice.

A colorful world is not the first thing he sees, though he will find how much more vivid, how much more staggering the colors are when finally he does look upon it. No, the first thing he sees are beautiful, evil, infinite eyes boring into his own. He cannot look away, and actually finds he does not want to, even though he does.

His master’s face: It is abhorrent, yet pleasant. He is sickened by it, yet enamored.

His master’s voice: He dreads it. He longs for it. 

His master’s touch: He’s disgusted by the thought. He desires it more than anything. 

His master’s very being: He hates it, yet he loves it. Rebukes the evil in him, while praising it. 

The paradox he finds himself stuck in is actually painful. Emotionally, physically, morally...he feels all of himself being torn. But there will be no escape from it. No freedom from it. Ever.

Dipper Pines has become Bill Cipher’s permanent play-thing. Permanent puppet. Permanent slave.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. I love to see what people think of the odd stuff that flows out of my head, so give me a few words of comment below. If you don't, I'll unleash my deadly pet on you. Yeah, I see you there...hiding in the background, just hoping to come and go unseen.   
> Fine, don't crap your pants, I'll give you a pass...as long as you hit that kudos button. DO IT!!
> 
> O_O


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